


Lucky Number Seven

by simplesetgo



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesetgo/pseuds/simplesetgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy!AU porn: Cara is an agent. So is Kahlan. There might be a gun and a pink dress involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Number Seven

It’s the sixth time she’s caught her eye across the room—Cara knows because she’s been counting. The throng of dignitaries and politicians in the ballroom are milling about, engaging in pleasantries and overwhelmingly meaningless conversation. At least the mission is almost over. A few more minutes and she’ll be able to take someone’s head for the false alarm that very nearly sent the room into straight up panic.

But Cara might have something else to do, first. If it happens again. She moves slowly through the crowd, eyes sharp for more than one reason. A sudden voice in her earpiece informs her that the package is secure, that they’re already thirty seconds out. Cara allows a small sigh of relief and surveys the room one last time.

The brunette is watching her again. There’s a knowing look on her pretty face as she leans lightly against a pillar, blue dress flowing and dark hair done up on her head like she’s some kind of princess.

A princess that can’t keep her eyes off of Cara.

****

Static crackles softly in Kahlan’s ear. “ _Target extracted safely,_ ” it says. “ _Good work, people._ ” Kahlan murmurs back acknowledgement as she watches the blonde walk away, hips swaying just enough. She’s never seen anyone look so dangerous in a pink dress, tight as it is, hugging every curve. She likes the thought of a girl who can make such apparel look so overtly…threatening. Something about the way she carries herself, like she could take on the entire room and win. She’d probably look damn good doing it, too.

Lost in thought, Kahlan soon realizes she can’t see her anywhere. It’s a few minutes of casual wandering and exchanging graceful smiles with passerby before a smartly dressed man, likely the maître d’, clears his throat in front of her meaningfully and offers a small tray with a drink. Kahlan lifts her brow in question.

“For you, madam,” he says politely.

She takes it cautiously, throwing furtive glances to her sides. There’s no reason to think her cover isn’t intact, so she thanks him, takes a sip, and resists the urge to smirk when she recognizes the drink. Whoever the woman is, there’s little doubt what she wants.

“I believe,” he continues gravely, “this is also for you.”

Kahlan blinks at the white plastic card that was under the glass. A room keycard. She frowns when she picks it up—it is featureless, just bearing the small logo for the hotel they're in. “The woman who bought this,” she says. “Did she have anything herself?”

“She had a triple seven, madam.”

Kahlan nods her thanks and exits the room, heading for the hallway and then the elevator—seventh floor.

****

The handle clicks unlocked and Kahlan steps from the corridor into the extravagant, if dimly lit, room number seventy-seven. She barely has time to breathe before she’s pressed back against the door, a stranger’s body against her own and soft perfume filling her nostrils. She clamps down her fight reflex just long enough for full, firm lips to crush against her mouth, demanding and not a little harsh. It sends warmth straight between Kahlan’s legs.

She nearly forgets that she planned to play coy, to buy herself time, because she needs to slip into the bathroom long enough to unstrap the small Glock from her thigh. It is not the first time Kahlan has done this, and while she doubts this one would scream and try to claw her face off like the last, she would rather not risk it. But then hands are traveling firmly over her body in a manner that has Kahlan’s eyes sliding open even as their kiss deepens. She isn’t being explored, felt up—she’s being frisked.

She goes for the wrists but it’s too late—her own weapon is leveled at her own head as the blonde flicks the lights on. Kahlan raises her hands behind her head and sighs as the other woman steps back. Mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea. Everyone always told her that, but this is the first time she’s ever wished she listened.

“You’re fast,” Kahlan admits.

The blonde shrugs, panting a little. The gun stays rock steady. “I’m good. Who are you?”

“I’m a federal agent,” she warns. “CIA.”

“Fucking CIA, really?”

She almost sounds petulant, exasperated, and Kahlan’s brow furrows. “Really. Who are you?”

“Mason, NSA. This was _our_ job. He’s a foreign national.”

Kahlan nods gently at the Glock pointed at her forehead. “Do you mind?”

“Badge,” she replies. “Slowly.”

“I’m undercover,” Kahlan says, grimacing. “You’ll have to call it in.”

****

There’s nothing that kills a mood like confirming identities with Langley. Kahlan and Cara stand apart from each other, staring awkwardly into space as they both wait for word back from their teams. When it’s done, Cara pulls the earpiece from her ear. “It’s too bad,” she offers vaguely, not meeting Kahlan’s gaze. “I really needed to get laid after that mission.”

“Yeah,” Kahlan agrees. “It is. Agency overlaps are always a pain. The trigger-happy guy in the back room, was he yours?”

“He’s not getting a gun next time, trust me.”

“At least he missed,” she offers sympathetically.

Cara grunts, saving her wrath for the fools who earned it. Neither of them move for the door. It’s a few moments before Kahlan clears her throat, as if she’s just decided something. “You’re a terrible agent.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t finish frisking me,” the brunette says solemnly, eyes teasing as she reaches to dim the lights.

Cara wills herself not to show relief, offering a sultry smirk instead. “Who says I was done?”

****

They’re on the bed, now, picking up a little past where they left off. Kahlan’s dress was their first victim and she’s reclining back on the sheets, soft hair let down and shaken loose, black laced bra and panties sharp against creamy skin. Cara growls her approval before raising herself to her knees, impatiently tugging at the zipper on her own dress.

Kahlan watches, lower lip between her teeth, then she laughs and sits up. “Let me.”

Cara surrenders. Kahlan’s deft fingers have better luck, but then her brow furrows. “Stuck,” she whispers, clearly dissatisfied, and tugs sharply. There’s a ripping sound and Kahlan’s hand flies to her mouth.

“I hate this dress,” Cara reassures, urging her back down gently. “Light red is not my color.”

“It’s pink,” Kahlan says, lips quirking as she settles back.

“It is not.”

“Don’t complain—to be honest, that dress is getting you laid.”

Luckily it’s now loose enough to slip off, and Cara grins as she shrugs out of it. Unlike Kahlan’s, her dress is braless—blue eyes darken as they focus right on her bare chest. Cara finds herself pulled down over her, and it’s Kahlan’s lips that urge Cara’s own to part. Her body grows warm as hands massage her breasts and Kahlan slides her tongue against her own, pulling kiss after kiss from her.

But it’s not like they have all the time in the world. Cara soon responds with a thigh set just so between Kahlan’s legs, and when she flexes muscle there, shifting a little, Kahlan moans right into her mouth. Cara hides her satisfied smile by running the tip of her tongue up her slender throat, then sucking a hard kiss from the side of her neck. Her hand slips under Kahlan’s back, which Kahlan arches helpfully, and soon she’s sliding Kahlan’s bra free, revealing perfect pink nipples that make Cara’s mouth water.

“Two blades in your heels,” Cara says thoughtfully, eyeing her flawless skin, “and no scars? Ever even used them?”

“I win close-quarters engagements with knives in under five seconds.” Kahlan lifts an eyebrow. “Unless I’m distracted by a hot blonde.”

With that Kahlan reaches a hand behind her neck, encouraging or maybe pleading. Cara bites back her response in favor of sucking lightly on her breast, rolling her tongue, as she finally trails a hand down over Kahlan’s belly to where her thigh has been teasing, to where Kahlan needs her. Her fingers slip under the band of her panties, stretching fabric to find hot flesh waiting for her, slick and smooth. Kahlan’s own fingers sink into her back, nails biting into her skin. Cara’s lips curl before she moves to her other breast, because it would be a crime to ignore any part of her. This mission was decidedly worth it.

When Cara takes her, two fingers fast and deep and hard, Kahlan is already panting openly, chest heaving under Cara. Cara licks the heat from her skin, drives her closer, ever closer. She gives her three and Kahlan shudders, starts bucking into her hand like she can't help it. Cara curls her fingers just so, thrusts hard, and Kahlan convulses, neck arched, a lewd groan slipping from gritted teeth.

“Oh fuck,” Kahlan breathes out, a long moment later. “You are _good_.”

“Told you,” Cara says, pulling her hand from soaked panties with a smirk.

****

Kahlan is competitive by nature. The night’s a failure in her book unless she can make Cara come harder than she just did, and she thinks it likely won’t be easy—at all. She pushes Cara onto her back, tugs the blonde’s panties down her thighs and off of her. Urging her legs apart, Kahlan glances up to Cara and raises her brow, smiles. Cara shrugs, offers a lopsided grin. She’s as wet as anything Kahlan has ever seen and she hasn’t even touched her. Maybe her mission won’t be so difficult after all.

Kahlan dips her head between Cara’s thighs, smelling her arousal now. She’s not the most experienced woman in the world, but she thinks she knows what Cara wants. Relentless, a little rough, and she doubts the blonde is at all a fan of teasing. She parts Cara’s lips with her fingers and goes to work with her mouth.

The strong taste of Cara coating her tongue, Kahlan licks and sucks, letting a hand venture up to feel her breast. Soon she presses on her clit with her other thumb, and then, open mouth pressed to her sex, she’s fucking Cara with her tongue, as deep as she can. Kahlan feels Cara’s breathing turn frantic more than she hears it. Like a switch thrown, Cara darts a hand to bury in Kahlan’s hair, closing her thighs around Kahlan’s head as if to hold her there by force. Kahlan doesn’t slow or stop and it isn’t long before Cara is crying out, clenching around Kahlan’s tongue, hips pushing off the bed. Kahlan feels nothing short of victorious as she looks up to see Cara’s eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open and panting.

One last taste, a lick up the length of her sex and a gentle kiss to her clit, and Kahlan pushes up to collapse on her side by Cara. She places a hesitant hand on the blonde’s flushed chest, half expecting it to be batted away, but Cara seems content to let Kahlan feel her pounding heartbeat slow. “You know,” Kahlan says, “I should’ve realized you weren’t a civilian.”

“Why’s that?” Cara says softly, eyelids still fluttering a little. Kahlan grins, deciding she’s won.

“I had to decode the drinks,” she says, almost laughing. “A sex on the beach for me, a triple seven for you, and a keycard. Not a normal way to hit on a girl.”

“We’re agents,” Cara says, shrugging. “We don’t think like normal people.”

Kahlan swings off the bed, groaning as she kneels to pick up her bra from the floor. “Well, you’re lucky I’m an agent, then.” When she stands, Cara cocks her head, pausing as if deep in thought as she stares at Kahlan’s body.

“Yeah,” she says. “I do feel pretty lucky right now.”


End file.
